Sweetheart
by HannahSongla
Summary: A series of Hayniss/Aberdeen one-shots inspired by Lana Del Rey songs, spanning over many AUs.
1. Lolita

_Note: Everyone is pretty Out of Character in this part, sorry. Maybe it's because they're drunk? /crappyexcuseiscrappy_

**Lolita**

_Would you be mine? Would you be my baby tonight?_

_Could be kissing my fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine_

_'Cause I like you quite a lot, everything you got, don't you know?_

I'm at Haymitch's house, somewhere I've been a lot lately. It's been lonely since the games, since Peeta's mad at me and I haven't had a chance to talk to Gale with him working. Haymitch is the only person I really feel like I can talk to lately, anyways. My mom and Prim try, and I want to be the daughter, and the sister that I used to be. I can't, though, and Haymitch understands that. He understands that I need a break from the people who don't understand me, and can only try to fathom what I've been through. Not only does Haymitch understand, but he has this rare ability to make it not some awkward elephant in the room. Maybe the mutual understanding helps with that.

At first, we were just silent. Haymitch was usually hung over or sleeping when I came, but made an effort to make me feel at home when he came to. He usually tried to make me food before realizing he had none, and then fetched me a glass of water. We'd sit, in a comfortable silence, sipping on our beverages, looking everywhere, the ceiling, the table, our hands, our eyes. It was during this time, looking in his eyes, and at his face, I realized that haymitch was kind of handsome, if you looked past the paunchiness and the deep bags beneath his eyes. He didn't look quite as old as I remembered, and there was something about the way he smiled that made my heart flutter. I was embarrassed by this feeling at first, and pushed it aside, pretending I didn't feel it at all. It was weird...he was so much older than me.

One day, we just started talking. I felt as though I could trust him like we we were close lifelong friends. Everything personal about myself was poured out, and Haymitch told me some about his own life. He was reluctant at first, but opened up with the help of liquor and some coaxing from myself. The only topic we didn't touch was the games, and of course, the way my heart took off every time I thought of him and coming to his house.

We learned a lot about each other this way. I told him about childhood and starvation, Gale, and depressed mothers. He confided deadbeat fathers, days looking past the fence, and girlfriends. One day he commented that he hoped depression didn't run in my family, and I concurred. It was an odd comment, but I told myself it was nothing, just a mentor caring for his victor. It still felt oddly intimate.

Then, one night, I had a particularly nasty nightmare concerning peeta and gale, waking with a scream and running from the house. Without thinking, I found myself at Haymitch's house. It wasn't until I reached his living room I realized how ridiculous it was. Haymitch sat on his couch, still awake and pretty drunk, staring at me in shock. I couldn't fight the tears though, and the next thing I processed his arms were around me, hugging me until the crying stopped, before leading back to my house. Soon, this was a regular occurrence.

Tonight is one of those nights. Except, I don't plan on going home. I want to drink, to help pluck up the courage for what I plan on doing. When he pulls away and starts to move me back to the door, I shake my head. He just cocks an eyebrow, and I clear my throat, my stomach clenching in nervousness. It's crazy, what I'm thinking, but I've got to at least try. I swallow, but I can't find the words. Several seconds drag by.

"Can I get a drink?" I finally manage to croak out, and haymitch gives a chuckle.

"Sure, sweetheart, help yourself." He motions to an assortment of bottles littering his table, each having varying amounts of alcohol left. I pick one and take a quick swig, and fight the urge to spit it out all over his table. Haymitch looks at me expectantly, and I raise the bottle to him before taking another drink. It's not so bad this time, now that I know what to expect, but I still wince when I swallow. Haymitch watches, and a feeling of self-consciousness creeps under my skin with his gaze.

A few swallows later, a nice buzz has settled in and I giggle, setting the bottle down.

"I've got a question for you." I say, smiling. It seems kinda silly I was so worried about his reaction. Haymitch forces a laugh, and takes a drink from his own bottle.

"And what question is that, sweetheart?" He's poised, tense, anticipating the worst. Perhaps he thinks I'm going to ask him about his games. I study his grey seam eyes, preparing myself spring the worst, but before the question can slip out all the way, I chicken out.

"Have you ever..." I am not ready for this. I pick up the bottle again and take drink, and resolve to take a new approach. Baby steps. "Had sex?" I ask, because it's the most logical question. Of course he's kissed someone, he's had multiple girlfriends. Maybe even gotten naked. Or something. The thought makes my head swim, and I take another drink. Haymitch studies me for a moment before answering.

"That's your big question?" He asks, a bit incredulous. I shake my head, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

"I'm just working up to it." I explain, Haymitch gives a small smirk, but continues to study me, and a heat starts to creep up my neck and to my cheeks. I'm suddenly aware of just how nervous I am, and take another drink, which seems to take off the edge. Haymitch leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling for a while before answering.

"Yes, I've had sex, sweetheart. Why do you want to know?" He still doesn't look at me, and I take my time to finish the bottle off before answering.

"With who?" I don't bother to acknowledge his question. He heaves a sigh.

"A few people from the Capitol, my girlfriend before the games, even a couple of people from the district." He looks at me now, more serious than before, but the alcohol keeps the embarrassment away effectively. "Are you going to answer my questions?"

"Because...I..." I look at him, unsure if I should confess. After a few seconds of staring, I decide to screw it and go ahead. If it goes badly Ill just act as though it didn't happen. "I think...we should...um...have sex." I refuse to tear my eyes away now, and I can see a course of emotion through haymitch. Shock, running into disbelief, running into...amusement.

"Are you serious?" He laughs, but I only nod solemnly, and he sobers. "No. Absolutely not. What about Peeta? Or Gale?"

"Well...I mean, I like them. But Peeta wants nothing to do with me. And Gale is just...y'know, a friend." I mumble, all my tact whisked away with the buzz of alcohol. I want nothing more than to leave now, and hide from Haymitch until the end of time. I don't know what I was expecting. For him to say yes? Ridiculous. I glance up at Haymitch, hoping that he'll offer a bit understanding, or at least something to break the silence, but he has fixed his eyes on a bottle of amber liquid among many.

"Forget it, it was a stupid idea." I murmur, and I grab another bottle before getting up. "Seeya."

"Where do you plan on going with that?" He asks, his gruff voice holding an undertone of amusement. "Back to your mother's house? I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

My face flushes red, burning. Of course he's right, and I plop back down on the seat that he has reserved for me. I open the bottle and take a long drink before looking at Haymitch, who has returned to studying me.

"What?" I ask, a bit more sloshy than before. Haymitch barks out a laugh.

"Slow down, sweetheart. You don't know your limits." He gets up and takes the bottle from me, eliciting a whine on my part, and I make a half-hearted attempt to grab it back. He just laughs and sets it up high, as if that would stop me from grabbing it again, or one of the many other half filled bottles on his table.

"You're not fair." I mumble, and he gives another laugh.

"I'm not?" He asks, and I nod. "How so?"

"Because," Hot embers of anger are starting to glow in my chest, fuelling my words and making them pour out of my mouth. "I come in here, and you act all nice and understanding, and you hug me when I'm scared, but it doesn't mean anything to you." I glance at Haymitch to try and see his reaction, which currently stands at some mix between pity and amusement. The words continue to come. "You're the only person who understands, Haymitch, besides Peeta, but he hates me right now, pretty much because of you." Somewhere between the words, hot tears have started to run down my face. "And I really like you, and...it isn't fair."

When the anger finally sputters out into tears, I come to the realization I had gotten up, and I'm now standing over Haymitch, whose expression I can't read. The next thing I process is his arms around me, his hands stroking my hair. We remain like this even when the tears stop. Eventually I look up, and our eyes meet. Instinctively, I lift my head and our lips meet.

_Another Note: If you're reading because you read my other fic, Burnt, the next chapter will be up soon. I've been working on it, but I've also been hoarding this for a while. The next chapter has been pretty hard to write. _


	2. Off to the Races

_Because I'm crazy, baby_

_I need you to come here and save me_

_I'm your little scarlet starlet_

_Singin' in the garden_

_Kiss me on my open mouth_

_Ready for you_

"Give me a drink, Haymitch."

These are the first words that leave my mouth when I find myself at his house. Before this, I was shaken up, but now, I just need to forget. I don't want to think about the announcement, the quell, the inevitability of returning to the arena. I can afford to forget about all of this for one night. What better way than to drink? Haymitch has been doing it for at least 20 years, hasn't he?

Haymitch doesn't protest, either. I don't think it's that his morals are lacking, it's just he understands. I mean, we're going through the same thing, aren't we? Well, almost. Haymitch still has a 50% chance of not returning to the arena. Where as I…

Stop. Don't think about it.

He's pouring me a drink, and before I know it, I've thrown back 2 glasses and am asking for a third. He laughs, causing me to retract my glass out of self consciousness, before thinking better of it and extending my arm again. He obliges.

Funny how I wanted to drink to forget, because the alcohol only wants to talk. About the arena, about life, and how it just isn't fair. Screw the games, screw the capitol, screw everybody. Haymitch doesn't hush me. There's no point of being hushed, I'm going to die either way.

I am going to die. It didn't solidify in my mind until this moment, but now I'm sure that it will be Peeta who comes back, and this calms my stomach a bit. But not much. The alcohol is telling me to still be angry. The alcohol continues to push words out of my mouth that'd I'd never say sober.

"You know what's the worst?" I slur, and Haymitch smiles darkly.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I'm never going to experience anything. Or h-have the opportunity to, anyways." I can't really say Haymitch has experienced all life has to offer, or what limited selection district 12 has. "Not that I know that I'd take full advantage, but it feels wrong to be robbed of the choice." My words slip and slide, but I try to stay coherent. I don't even know what I'm saying, it isn't really the worst thing, but my mind has some ulterior motive and is on a set course. I don't try to veer from it. "I mean, I'll never even...have sex."

The alcohol doesn't completely dull my sense of modesty, and when I say those words, I feel dirty. What am I doing?

Haymitch gives me a look. He isn't drunk enough for this yet. No problem, though, he's pouring-no, sloshing-more into his glass. I hold out my own.

"Maybe that's enough for you." He murmurs, but I don't retract my hand. He doesn't give in.

"Come on, Haymitch. I don't want-" My voice catches. I'd been pushing the quarter quell to the back of my mind, but some of the restraints were breaking, and my thoughts were spilling all over. "I don't want to be able to remember in the morning."

He studies me, eyes narrowing, and I feel like he's trying to pry into my very soul. I look away until the splash of liquid against glass tells me he's refilled my cup.

"Your mother won't be happy with me." He mumbles, but I try to drown him out with loud gulps.

"You should've thought of that before." I laugh, and he forces smirk. Something about the smirk stirs something inside me, and I feel a desire compelling me across the short expanse between us, onto his lap, my face brushing against his, I whisper in his ear.

"I need somebody." Before I bury my head into the crook of his neck. He sits stiffly, so I begin to kiss him, working my way up. By the time my lips reach his jaw, his hands are on my waist, torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. "Please…"

"...Okay." His voice is gruff, but his body invites me in, pulling me closer, until there isn't space between us.

Note: So I didn't realize the ending of the last chapter/story was so jankety, I'll get to fixing it in a bit. Also, if you want the (short) ending to this, go ahead and head to my profile, I'll have a link on my description. Also, thank you for reviews and follows :)


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